


forget me not

by rukafais



Series: one within the iris [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Oops, but uh. theres more sad robots fic, i said loadstar was the sad robots fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6999442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rukafais/pseuds/rukafais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all omnics dream, but Zenyatta does. Genji learns more than enough about what he dreams of.</p><p>alternatively: zenyatta also has a bunch of issues and it turns out not being lonely is a pretty good start to working through them</p>
            </blockquote>





	forget me not

Before, he wouldn’t have thought about it.

Now, it seems too rude - even now - to ask. 

Do omnics dream?

He doesn’t know. The words surface, bob there, and drown in his hesitance--

“Is there something wrong, Genji?”

“No, it...”

Genji shakes his head.

“...nothing is wrong. But I wanted to ask...”

\------

_“Do omnics dream?”_

He doesn’t know if all omnics dream. He can only speak for himself.

But - he does.

Oh, he does.

\-----

He needs to rest sometimes; needs to let his systems cool and data be processed. He makes sure to take good care of himself out here, if nothing else; even if Genji is here now, they don’t have many options if he were to break, or something were to go wrong.

So he ‘sleeps’, in essence. Sitting up in his usual meditative pose, or lying on the ground - he doesn’t need to be ‘comfortable’ in the way a human would to shut himself down to all but the most minimal processes.

(These days, though, his most favoured position is tucked beside Genji, comfortably snug. Having the warmth is pleasant.

Having company is pleasant, too. He’d never been really alone before; the Shambali had always moved as a group. Not having those connections always humming in his mind had given rise to an aching loneliness, at first.

Though, really, despite those he met, those he helps - he is still lonely, disconnected.)

And when he sleeps, he passes into another state entirely.

Sometimes, it’s the far-away voices of his siblings that he hears (remembers?); raised in song, quiet in meditation, simply rejoicing in being together. Irrevocably linked with snow on the mountains and the light of sunrise, illuminating the place in which they lived.

(When he began his journey, it was all that he heard, all that he dreamed of. It settled his soul, eased a mind not yet used to emptiness.

Though it comforted him, it did not prepare him for pain.)

Now he dreams of the voices of the outside world; sounds and tones that blend into one, a wordless cry for help, to ease their pain and deliver them from suffering. His own voice, offering prayers and words to ease the soul’s journey, a constant beat.

In slumber, his mind hovers in a state where he is surrounded by his memories; they flow around him like water, a river that reflects his actions. For every memory of a hand grasped, someone who lived, there are two more where they simply slip away; too late, too slow. The fading light of an omnic, the fading warmth of a human; all the same. All fleeting, unable to be caught. Unable to be saved.

He’s carried too many innocents in his arms, over these short years. Has dealt his fair share of retribution, but still - it brings him no joy, no peace of mind. It is something that had to be done.

To the innocent, he can only offer words. His regrets. His remorse.

(To the guilty he can only find regret that he had to resort to violence.)

His soul aches with tears that he has no capability to shed, sadness he cannot share or express to another, so far from home and those he knows best.

(And isn’t he already estranged from them? Isn’t there that divide, small but significant, nothing to hold a grudge for but making all the difference?)

 _It’s not enough_.

\------

Of course, it doesn’t come out as neatly as that.

If Genji had any lingering doubts left about Zenyatta’s depth of feeling, they’re dispelled; for the first time since they’ve known each other, the omnic stumbles over words, struggles to explain the depths of his dreams, things he has trouble putting into sentences.

(Some part of Genji shakes its head at his own silliness, his own assumptions; _after this long, you still thought they couldn’t feel as deeply as you? wouldn’t know what you were going through?_

The rest of him resonates with shame, with _yes_ , because it was hard to shake off so many years of the things you thought you knew.)

Zenyatta runs out of words, runs out of ways to express how he feels; his body language is more frail than fluid, heavy and hesitant. But it’s something he’s never shared before - has never had to share, or put into words, because before, all were one within the iris. They still were.

But he is one alone, and he carries a burden that weighs him down.

Genji clasps his hand in both of his, and says,

“Do not blame yourself. It’s enough.”

Zenyatta leans against him, clasps hands around his own. The cyborg is surprised, a little, to feel so comfortable in such a position, but he doesn’t question it. He’s more surprised to hear his own voice, earnest in a way he never thought he’d be again;

“Zenyatta - you have done so much for me. 

Let me help you, too.”

The omnic doesn't reply, but the way he leans against Genji a little more, curls into him, tightens his fingers gently around their entwined hands; all those little things, those little motions, speak volumes to his gratitude;

they both know that sometimes, it's hard to find the words.

But one thing is now certain:

Neither of them are alone any more.

**Author's Note:**

> zenyatta and genji both having their own issues and mutually reaching out to help each other is my jam


End file.
